


Sub Rosa

by orphan_account



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: F/M, Koumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Mimi’s Digimon evolves, so does she.  It just takes Koushiro a while to notice—and to admit it, even to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sub Rosa

**Author's Note:**

> I’m using Japanese names here. Lyrics are from the song “Under the Rose” by H.I.M.

**One – Togemon**

_I dream of the winter in my heart turning to spring_  
_While the ice gives way under my feet_  
_And so I drown with the sun_

Koushiro wished that Mimi’s Digimon wasn’t quite so. . . pointy.  He was used to big—Kabuterimon was _big_ —but Togemon was downright dangerous.  Koushiro had gotten the worse end of this evolutionary deal, too: while Kabuterimon’s keratinous backside had Mimi pressed face-first against the stone wall of the ruins, Koushiro was literally pinned to it by Togemon’s spines.  One enormous cactus needle passed just shy of his jaw while another had nearly lanced him in the eye.  Sweet, sensitive, tender little Palmon had turned into a bristling, succulent monstrosity.

But it was appropriate, in a way, because the same thing happened to Mimi sometimes.  She could be sweet, he supposed, in a girly kind of way, but she was also used to getting her way.  And when she _didn’t_ get it. . . well, Togemon’s perpetual rage was nothing compared to that of a Mimi scorned.  Koushiro hadn’t _meant_ to make her cry when she ran off about an hour ago.  In fact, he still wasn’t sure _why_ she was crying, only that she had burst into tears, and then Palmon had started crying too, and then Mimi was gone and Tentomon had gone after her, and then Koushiro was left with Palmon who was of very little use since she couldn’t evolve without Mimi, and then she _did_ evolve, and now Koushiro had only narrowly escaped becoming a kabob.

All these thoughts raced through his head in an instant, firing along his neural pathways like ones and zeros flipping in the memory cells of his computer.  But even a computer couldn’t have calculated Mimi.  She was even less predictable than a lush tropical flower evolving into a spiny cactus, made even less sense than the fact that the cactus wore boxing gloves.  (And what was under Togemon’s gloves anyway?  Hands?  Blossoms?  Were they actually part of her arms?  Why didn’t the Digimon Analyzer ever include that kind of interesting information?)

No, Koushiro would probably never figure out Mimi, or why she had started crying just because he was busy with his computer instead of listening to her.  Why _should_ he be listening to her, when Mimi was always talking and often not saying anything to ameliorate the situation?  And why should she care that he _wasn’t_ listening, when quite often no one except Palmon listened to her?  Why should she cry like Palmon and rage like Togemon because _he_ was ignoring her?

And why should he kind of like that, and be sort of flattered that she wanted his attention?  It was completely illogical because Mimi was such a burden, even if she was sort of cute, even if there was something about her that instilled the kind of loyalty her Digimon felt?  Something that could soften the thorny anger of Togemon and drive her to protect this fragile human girl with her life.  Something that, every now and then, threatened to melt the wall of knowledge that shielded Koushiro from emotions that could hurt, like overhearing that his parents weren’t really his parents or being sorry he’d made Mimi cry.

All these thoughts raced through his head in an instant, while Togemon’s prickly backside held him immobile there against the wall.  And then Kentarumon’s attack came, and Koushiro didn’t have to think any more about how Mimi just did not compute.  He welcomed the distraction.

\--

**02 – Lilimon**

_I open my eyes with a sigh of relief_  
_As the warmth of summer's sunlight dances around me_  
_And I see you with dead leaves in your hands_

She had been annoyed that he wasn’t happier to see her.

And really, it wasn’t that Koushiro _didn’t_ want to see her.  It just happened that there were more important matters claiming his attention at the moment.  Diaboromon flooding the real world with Kuramon, for instance.  Koushiro placated Mimi with a strained greeting and forgot about her.

At least, he thought he forgot.  But flashes came to him as he rested his head on the desk once it was all over, images of her in front of the lids closed over his scratchy, tired eyes.  Her hair blowing back from her face as she stood before the fan, eyes closed with pleasure at the cool breeze (ignoring what he was saying about the crisis at hand).  Her soft whimper and the fearful look in her hazel eyes when Omnimon’s energy burned low and it looked as if Armagemon would triumph.  Maybe he’d noticed her after all.

Koushiro dozed, and when he came awake, it was in the middle of a dream where he had been riding on AtlurKabuterimon’s back.  In the dream, Koushiro had slipped and fallen off, and when he hit the ground, he started awake to find it was only the desk.  He cried out at the horrible sensation of plummeting, then yelped again when, seconds later, a terrible crash sounded behind him.  Koushiro turned in his chair, chest heaving and nerves on edge, to see a pile of books on the floor behind him and Mimi bent almost double with giggles.

“I had seven books on your head before you woke up!” she laughed.  The star pendant she wore around her neck dangled from its chain, almost bumping the knees just visible under her brown skirt.

“Mimi—!”  He was tired, and his head ached a little, and that was probably because she had been putting books on it for some utterly illogical reason.  Easy enough for _her_ to laugh when she and her Digimon hadn’t had to fight this time.  Lilimon wouldn’t have been any help against Armagemon anyway, a delicate little blossom against that monstrosity.

“Hmph, you’ve been working so hard.  You need a real rest, away from that stupid computer of yours.”  Koushiro looked up to glare at her, but it was hard for him to stay angry.  She wasn’t laughing at him now; instead, her face showed the tender concern which sometimes startled him.  It was like seeing Togemon’s prickly, hollow gaze suddenly evolve into the delicate, almost-human features of Lilimon, Lilimon who also had a sweet smile tempered with a mischievous streak.

Mimi really did worry about him sometimes.

But then, Mimi worried about all of them, every now and then, when she wasn’t thinking of herself.

“I’m fine,” Koushiro muttered, and he turned back to his keyboard.

\--

**tri. – Rosemon**

_I've been burning in water and drowning in flame_  
_To prove you wrong and scare you away_  
_I admit my defeat and want back home_  
_In your heart under the rose_

He remembered all this now and wondered at it: the crying or sulking when he ignored her, the bids for his attention.  She could be like Togemon, fierce and angry and ridiculous, but with a stubborn loyalty and a smile as startlingly sweet as a cactus blossom.  She could be like Lilimon, delicate and vain and childish, but with all the toughness of a flower stem that bends but never breaks.

She had always been there, somewhere on the fringes of his consciousness, as the seasons passed and the years fell away.  Mimi had evolved like her Digimon: all thorns and flowers, first one facet of her personality blossoming then another, until now, when he looked at her and finally _saw_ her.

And suddenly he couldn’t _stop_ seeing her, or thinking about her.  He blushed, and she teased him, but she was as oblivious as she was self-centered.  Mimi probably thought they all really _were_ a little in love with her, like she’d said that time.  In Mimi’s world, everyone loved her, thoughtlessly, just as she never thought twice about giving all of herself to them.  It was so like her to arrive late to a battle and completely overlook it—because she was too busy thinking of the presents she had brought the others and how she could make them happy.  She was at once the most selfish and selfless person he knew: thorns and flowers, blossoms and spines.

What would Mimi’s final evolution be?  Palmon’s suited her: Rosemon, queen of the flowers, self-conscious yet strong, vain but loving.

Koushiro wanted her to love _him_.  When had that happened?  At what point, as Palmon evolved and Mimi grew up, had he started thinking of excuses to text her?  When had he stopped being glad that she was all the way across the globe in America (really, Mimi was safest when she was half a world away) and started missing her?  When had he realized she was pretty, maybe beautiful, and become self-conscious of his own appearance?  When had _he_ evolved?

Maybe it had come too late.  He should have gone after her when she ran away crying.  He should have let her take care of him when he was exhausted.  But he walked her to class every day now, and sometimes she stopped by his office for no reason other than to watch Palmon hop in and out of the monitors while Tentomon fretted that she was making him dizzy and Koushiro sat at his desk and looked at all of them like they were his family.

Palmon was still Palmon, even though she might be Togemon sometimes, or Lilimon, or Rosemon.  And Mimi was eternally Mimi.

 _And I am me,_ Koushiro thought, _private, kept in secret.  Under her rose._

\--

The End


End file.
